


Fire and Ice

by Marguerite Muguet (margueritem)



Category: GoldenEye (1995)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margueritem/pseuds/Marguerite%20Muguet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This short story was posted to my livejournal on December 17th, 2002.</p><p>Not betaed.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:**

> This short story was posted to my livejournal on December 17th, 2002.
> 
> Not betaed.

They watched as the building exploded. James thought he could feel the heat even from this far away. The explosion lit up the night, the flames reaching up high in the sky, the blast resonating through the forest.

Alec remained unusually silent beside him. He watched the debris fall; he seemed frozen, his face unreadable.

“We should go. The local authorities will soon be here,” James said. It had gone as planned for once : go in, place the bombs, meet at the rendezvous point 7 minutes later, and blow the whole thing up.

They had a long way to go, through the snow covered forest. Alec still hadn’t moved, and time grew short.

James got on the snowmobile; Alec followed suit moments later, taking place behind the other agent. The trip was tense. They were both on their guard until they finally reached the ski station hours later. James parked the vehicle in a hidden place, and they walked the rest of the way.

Alec stopped mid-way. James waited for him. He didn’t expect Alec’s comment.

“Four persons,” Alec said. He didn’t say anything more.

“What?” It was a rhetorical question; James knew to what those numbers referred.

“Two security guards and two cleaning ladies.” All killed by the explosion. “They probably didn’t even know what was underneath that building.”

“Minimum collateral damage.” James remembered the briefing. Attack at night, around 3 o’clock, when there weren’t many people around; cause minimum killing. They’d both known what the mission entailed. James hadn’t liked it any more than Alec, but it had to be done.

“Do you care, James? Or are they just a technical term for you?” His tone wasn’t accusatory. Alec continued talking, preventing any reply from James. “When did we become so cold? Like marble.”

James replied, “It’s what keeps us alive. It keeps us going.” Alec knew this. James worried. Alec’s face was unreadable for James, an unusual occurrence. They knew each other well.

Alec stood still, his face white and eerie under the moonlight. He looked at James as if expecting something from him, something more. James didn’t know what. “And alone.” It was a murmur; James was unsure if Alec had meant to say that out loud.

A cloud passed, hiding the moon for some moments. When the natural light fell once again on the two agents, an imperceptible change had occurred, and Alec was smiling, one of his wicked familiar smiles. “Never mind. I don’t know what came over me. For England.”

“For England,” repeated James. He put all his faith on those two words. Alec’s smile turned seductive, and James found himself responding with one of his own. However, part of him was still worried.

“I’m quite cold. Are you cold, James.” Alec came closer, not touching. His face was so close, James could feel the warm breath caressing his lips; he could practically savour the familiar chocolate taste of the other man’s mouth.

“Yes,” murmured James. He closed the gap between them; their lips and tongues met. He could feel the passion burning inside of him.

Alec ended the kiss, and said, “Then what do you say we use one of those big beds waiting for us? We could warm ourselves with some exerting exercise?”

The fired burned and consumed them both that night.

***

Ten years later

 _How can you be so cold?_

James kissed Natalya, taking in her smell, her taste. He ignited her passion; he tried to lose himself in her fire.

He was uncertain as to what he searched in the act : solace, forgiveness, to forget? He responded to her passion, but felt detached somehow. He concentrate on her pleasure, on mapping the still new territory of her body, on learning how to make her body respond.

Yes, he tried to lose himself in her, in the union (oh so illusory) of their bodies. He searched for the wave of pleasure that would drown her thoughts.

And yet, when she moaned, he remembered other moans from a much graver voice. When he moved, locked inside of her, he remembered other nights of passion, nights of which he still dreamed.

He tried to forget other lips, other eyes, other smiles of pleasure in Natalya. But still, after all these years, he remembered the chocolate taste, the salty sweat, his name in that other man’s lips.

As he brought her to climax, he remembered how hard it had been to lower his guard, even a little to him. He remembered how he’d burned. He’d realised that he wasn’t made of marble, but of ice. He had been afraid, for the ice had started to melt during his nights with the other. But the ice only grew thicker with years, now. It hurt, after having felt it melt in the fire.

He accepted the ice, now; he welcomed it, embraced it.

 _It’s what keeps you alone._


End file.
